


Águila

by latin_cat



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/pseuds/latin_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speculating on nicknames. Set during <i>Sharpe's Escape</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Águila

“Why do they call you ‘The Eagle’?”  
  
Wellington raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Why do you want to know?”  
  
Sharpe shrugged.  
  
“Just wondering. Seems a bit odd, considering Boney’s got the Eagles an’ all.”  
  
The general leaned back against the bedstead, stroking the dirty-gold head that lay pillowed on his chest and sighed.  
  
“Officially it is because I am supposed to possess the noble qualities associated with an eagle, along with the glory and victorious nature it usually symbolises.” He snorted dismissively. “Or more truthfully I think it is most likely to be a reference to my nose.”  
  
Sharpe laughed, propping himself up onto his elbows to kiss the tip of Wellington’s long, thin hooked nose.  
  
“It’s a very distinguished nose, like Caesar’s. He was supposed to have Eagles as well, wasn’t he?”  
  
“Quite possibly.” The general gave the Rifleman an amused smile. “But somehow I doubt Caesar’s nose had anything to do with his Eagles.”  
  
Sharpe grinned, pushing himself further up the bed and sliding on top of Wellington, the fabric of their thin shirts rubbing together, and traced the outline of the older man’s lips with his fingertips.  
  
“I know ‘bout eagles,” he said softly. “Bloody difficult buggers to catch they are, but I did it; I caught one, ‘specially for Lennox and gave it to you.”  
  
“I remember.” Wellington stroked the captain’s face, running his thumb along one high cheekbone, smiling. “And will you be planning on capturing this eagle? Do you judge yourself worthy of the task?”  
  
“Capture?” Sharpe shook his head in mock disbelief, one hand moving south to fumble with the buttons of the general’s breeches. “Christ, I’ll clip your bloody wings!”


End file.
